ornament

Warning: long and rambling post

What joy I got to witness on sweet Brooklyn's face when we put up the Christmas decorations this year. Yes, this was a magical Christmas because of the view through those beautiful, wondrous blue eyes.

While putting our ornaments on the tree Brooklyn asked me what this one said.

 

It says Luke.

I bought it the beginning of December in 2007. Four months after losing Luke. My heart was still in a million pieces, and one day while attempting to be "normal" and shop for gifts at the mall (really just wandering aimlessly) Matt and I stumbled upon the coolest ornament shop. I have yet to see that again since that year. It's like it was there just for me. Much like this ornament was, and I bought them all, all three they had and gave them to our mom's and kept this one for us. To say it is precious to me is an understatement.

Brooklyn unwrapped it gently from the tissue paper and looked at me with wide eyes as I explained for the first time why this particular ornament touched me so much. My eyes filled with tears as I slowly and delicately explained that she had a brother that was in mommy's tummy, but God needed him to be with Him, so he got to go live with Jesus. She truly listened, to every word I spoken, she didn't try to rush the conversation or change it, she just smiled at the prospect of having another brother.

She has since asked several times about her "older brudder Luke who is in heaven". Wonderings such as "when can I see him" or "I used to play with Luke when I was a little girl" or her most recent "mom, can I see my brudder Luke in heaven on Saturday". I know some people probably think this is weird, that I would talk so candidly to her about a brother she never knew, one that no one ever had the chance to know, but he was as real to me as she is, so I want her to know what a gift it is to have another brother waiting to play with her in eternity. There are still days I cling to that hope!

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that a huge part of my heart has been re-opened over the past several months. I have had the privilege of getting to know one of the kindest, most amazing women I've ever met, under the saddest circumstances I could have ever imagined. She lost her one month old daughter, and has had to learn what it means to truly start over, to come home to an empty house and re-build what it means to be "normal". We were connected through friends, and I immediately felt a strong connection to her. Our stories are very different, yet our outcomes were the same...empty arms and broken hearts (and right before all the holiday hoopla). I just ached for her, truly, grieved when I heard her story. I found myself sobbing tears for a stranger, because I knew her heart, her pain. I have had the honor of talking with her, reassuring her that life will change, morph, sometimes good and sometimes bad, grief will come in waves, some scars will be there forever, memories will soften, but the love she feels for her daughter will only strengthen...even with the growth of their family.

It has brought up some truly raw emotions for me, ones that I knew I still had, but didn't realize how much I could still taste and smell them. How real they could still be. On Christmas eve I took Ben to the store with me and found myself just wandering the aisles for nothing in particular at all. I was lost in thought. Pain, knowing what my precious new friend was going to be experiencing on what should have been her daughter's first Christmas, and memories of that Christmas where I was buying an angel ornament instead of "baby's first" for Luke. It shouldn't have been this way...yet here I sit with hindsight on my side. I can look at this mama, this sweet broken hearted friend and promise her she will have no regrets on the other end of her journey. There is never going to be the promise of "easy" again. Her next pregnancy will be hard, the delivery of the next baby will be hard, but the result of all the pain will be worth every single hard moment. The joy of knowing that there is an angel waiting for her, no one can ever take that away. To say that is joyous is...well, weird. There is nothing joyful about not having your baby in your arms, but clinging to that HOPE, is.

So, Christmas, per usual brought a mixed bag of emotions, but I feel like each year it's more feelings of thankfulness, for Brooklyn and Ben. More feelings of appreciation for my imperfect story. I love this broken story, because I firmly believe that when my life is done here on earth, I am going to have VERY full arms in eternity! I am so thankful to have this opportunity to share Luke with this friend, to have her nod and say, yes I understand, but man oh man, I would give anything in the world to take her pain away right now. All I can do is nod to her and say, it will be different... you will find a "new" normal. She's beyond amazing, so I know God has big plans for her story; and I love that He has chosen to use mine (and Luke) to help her.

What a mysterious and beautiful God we serve.